And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters....All things that love the sun are out of doors;
Poems forever
There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;—on the moors
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
I was a Traveller then upon the moor;
I saw the hare that raced about with joy;
I heard the woods and distant waters roar;
Or heard them not, as happy as a boy:
The pleasant season did my heart employ:
My old remembrances went from me wholly;
And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.
Excerpted from Resolution and Independence
by William Wordsworth
By Abid Agha
In a folk mela, I suddenly saw a palm reader.
"Hey, palm reader, read my palm!
Read my wealth and fate lines, and tell me of my love."
He held my palm for a while, then murmuring, released it.
Gazing deep into my eyes, he broke his silence:
"You are a man of wealth and opportunity."
"But what of my love?" I asked, anxious to know.
The palm reader smiled and replied,
"Your love is more precious than pearls,
Softer than roses, and more fragrant than spring flowers.
Go and discover—it lies within you.
The more you love yourself,
The sooner you'll treasure your soulmate."
The lines of my palm led back to my own heart,
And I left the mela with surprises in hand.
By Mahvash Irshad
Worthless lives, bombs blow.
Dense smoke, no way out, caged breaths
And red rivers flow.
Crushed homes, parks are quiet.
People live in graves or dark
But flames make nights bright.
By Amna Ameer
I don't know
What part of me stays
All I know
Is that inside me
A person
Goes away
Without speaking
Or saying goodbye
It has been doing this
For a long time
It retreats
Says to itself
This is how
I am meant to be saved
But in reality
All I am left with
Is the corpse
Of lost hope
And dismay
Once I get better
I keep telling myself for days
But it keeps getting darker
And the one who got away
Never comes back again
Slowly I lose from within
Parts of me
That had any memory
Of traumas and grievances
I wake up empty
And don't know
How I shall face,
A world of brewing questions
And brimming speculations
Who will tell them?
The person they recall
Isn't the one to answer any plea
The judge, jury and executioner
Neither played a role
I took my death sentence
The day I started to feel
A secret pain
And an even more private battle
There's no piecing together
This unnamed debacle
Words torn down to letters
Meanings that can't be deciphered
A cryptic story written
Tinged with trauma and bruises
There's no healing this time
Even time has run out of excuses